The Secret Mating Rituals of Spies
by Rambling Scribe
Summary: Post S9. Harry's on secondment and Ruth's been given some advice on her relationship with him. Light-hearted fluff with a dollop of naughtiness. And penguins...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC.**

**A/N: Light-hearted, bit naughty and most definitely fluff, inspired by a recent(ish) trip to Regent's Park. Credit (blame) for the more random (crazy) elements of this story goes to...well, they know who they are... ;)**

* * *

><p><strong>1<strong>

Ruth drank the last of her water and dropped the empty plastic bottle into a rubbish bin just inside the park gate. Whilst her headache had subsided to a more manageable level she still felt very dehydrated. The realisation that she was too old to spend a weekday evening consuming large quantities of Merlot was only marginally less depressing than the realisation she was too old to spend _any_ evening consuming large quantities of Merlot. Or any other alcohol for that matter. And she was certainly too old to be led astray by her friend Frances - her partner in boozing - who had delivered some candid, if rather brutal, advice on Ruth's strained relationship with Harry.

It had started simply enough; an evening with her oldest and closest friend. A friend who hadn't judged or questioned Ruth's return from beyond the grave but had instead been delighted to see her and happy to pick up from where they'd left off. Ruth felt safe confiding in her and, in her slightly inebriated state, revealed that Harry had proposed marriage and she'd turned him down. Frances, for once, been rendered speechless although it hadn't lasted.

"Why Ruth? I thought he was _the one_."

"I just…it's complicated, Frances. There are things that need to be worked out."

"What things?"

"Just…things."

Frances had topped up their glasses and looked her friend in the eye and asked: "It's sex, isn't Ruth? What's the problem? Is he too demanding? Or not demanding enough?"

Ruth, horrified at the turn the conversation had taken, gabbled, "No! No, it's not that."

"Oh…so can't he manage it then? Is that it?"

Mortified, Ruth had put her head in her hands.

Taking this as confirmation she was on the right track, Frances had ploughed on. "Look, if he's having trouble getting the old chap to stand to attention, get him some little blue pills. And tell him there's no shame in it. Lots of blokes have the same problem."

"Oh God," Ruth had groaned. "Frances, really, that's not it."

"Well then what is the problem? Is he rubbish at it? Or is he more chipolata than salami?"

Ruth's response to that had been a shrieked 'How would I know? We've never had sex!'

Leaving her friend to gather her composure, Frances had retreated to the kitchen to get a fresh bottle of Merlot and ponder a plan of action to get Ruth and Harry together.

**-x-**

_The Cow and Coffee Bean_ provided a welcome source of distraction for Ruth and she bought herself an ice cream and another bottle of water. She sat at one of the tables outside and contemplated texting Harry to cancel their meeting. He'd phoned her at nine-thirty that morning demanding that she meet him in Regent's Park in the afternoon. She'd been too hung-over to argue, instead settling for asking him when and where.

"Two o'clock," he'd replied. "I'll be on the bench under the gazebo. Near _The Honest Sausage_. You can't miss it."

Ruth had hung up the phone without another word, painfully aware that cylindrical meat products were apparently going to be haunting her thoughts for some time.

**-x-**

She found him sitting exactly where he'd said he'd be. He had his back to her and was watching a cricket match that was being played on the pitch a few hundred yards away.

"I was beginning to think you'd stood me up," Harry said, as Ruth sat down beside him.

"I'm not that late am I?" she asked, attempting to juggle her handbag and her bottle of water so she could look at her watch. She felt mildly guilty when she saw that it was nearly half past two. "Sorry, I got held up. You know how it is."

"Yes, I do," Harry replied, giving her a smile.

Ruth smiled back at him. He looked well; his temporary banishment to the Ministry of Defence as MI5 liaison was clearly agreeing with him, the irony of which wasn't lost on her. The Board of Inquiry, and just about everyone else who knew him, had expected Harry to go into meltdown and refuse to accept his punishment, leaving the Service with no alternative but to kick him out. Instead, he had taken their decision calmly, conducted a civilised and professional handover with his replacement on the Grid, and gone off to the MoD without complaint.

"I take it Devereux's keeping you busy," said Harry.

Ruth nodded. "Yes but he's doing an excel-...a-a good job. Not as good a job as you, obviously."

"It's all right, Ruth. I'm well aware of my failings. In all areas."

"You do know," she replied, ignoring the slightly self-pitying tone he'd adopted, "that if it hadn't been for him we wouldn't be able to liaise."

"Is that what we're calling it these days?"

"You know what I mean. We wouldn't be able to meet like _this_."

It was true. Sir Charles Anton Devereux, known universally as Chaz and currently keeping Harry's Thames House chair warm, had pointed out that exchanging information between MI5 and the MoD could be a bit tricky if the liaison was barred from contacting certain Security Services staff. Richard Dolby, as was his way, had wittered on about 'protocols' and 'respecting the Inquiry Board's decision'. He hadn't shut up until Chaz had helpfully pointed out that the Board had specified only that Harry was to go to the MoD for a minimum of six months; it hadn't made any ruling on who he could or couldn't contact during his 'secondment'.

"Fair point," Harry conceded. "So what would you like to liaise about today?"

"You tell me; you organised the meeting."

"How are you, Ruth?"

"I'm fine," she answered, too distracted with trying to open her bottle of water to appreciate that Harry was already taking the conversation in a personal direction.

"Are you sure? It's just that you look a little…" He stopped, the phrase 'hung-over' on the tip of his tongue. "Peaky."

"I'm fine!" Ruth snapped. "And we're supposed to be discussing work."

"Has anything changed since I spoke to Dimitri yesterday?"

"No."

"Then we don't have to talk shop, do we." He took the water from her, removed the small plastic tab holding the flip-up lid in place, and then held the bottle out to her. "Let's make the most of the opportunity to do something else."

By rights, it shouldn't have sounded as suggestive a comment as it did but Ruth's brain was still tainted with both alcohol and her conversation with Frances. Her hand faltered slightly as she reached for the bottle.

"What would you like to do?" Harry asked, watching Ruth as she took a long swig of water. He was well aware she was studiously avoiding his gaze as she attempted to formulate a response. "Anything you like," he said, determined to stop her from analysing his question and, for once, just reply instinctively, impulsively.

"Let's go to the zoo."

Perhaps the instinctive/impulsive thing wasn't such a good idea after all.

"The zoo?" Harry repeated, slowly.

"Yes," said Ruth, sensing she had him on the back foot.

"Are you sure?"

"You said 'anything' and I want to go to the zoo."

"Then that's what we'll do." Harry stood up. "We can stop off at _The Honest Sausage_ for something to eat afterwards." His suggestion was met with a spluttering cough as Ruth almost inhaled her water. He leant down and tentatively patted her on the back. "You all right?"

"Yes, I'm OK," she managed, between coughs. "Come on, lets go."

"Like I said, we can get something to eat afterwards," Harry said, as they walked past the sign for the restaurant. "They do terrific sausage and mash."

"Oh God," Ruth muttered and pulled a face. "Mashed potato."

"What about mashed potato?"

"I can't bear the stuff."

"But it's just potato mashed up."

She shuddered. "Yuck. Horrible stuff."

"But you like boiled potatoes? And roast? And baked?"

Ruth nodded.

"I know you like chips," Harry continued, "and as for crisps, the only person I've seen get through a tube of Pringles quicker than you is Dimitri."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm just trying to understand why you seem to have a pathological hatred of mashed potato."

"School dinners," Ruth replied, irritated. She couldn't believe they were having a discussion about sodding potatoes.

"What about them?"

For an intelligent man, he was being particularly dense.

"My school dinners were dominated by mashed potato. Every day. Vile, lumpy, watery mash that we were _forced_ to eat. I haven't touched the stuff since and I still can't look a shepherd's pie in the face. So to speak. Satisfied?"

Harry had had half a mind to tease her about really having an aversion to sausages but given how worked up she'd got over mash, he decided against it. He'd rather not be fed to the lions.

"Fair enough," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "You can have a bacon roll instead."

"Bloody man!" Ruth grumbled, and strode off ahead of him.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading. More soon...<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Still not mine…**

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Sorry for the slight delay – a longer chapter to make up for it. And penguins, as promised.**

* * *

><p><strong>2<strong>

Peace reigned once they got inside the zoo and they spent a companionable couple of hours wandering around. They visited the giraffes, admired the lions and tigers, laughed at the monkeys' bad behaviour and even went into the Reptile House. Harry had teased Ruth about being scared of snakes whilst failing to admit he wasn't their biggest fan either. She'd denied the accusation, despite it being close to the truth, but as they'd got to the venomous snake display, she'd reached for his hand and held on tight.

Their fingers were still loosely entwined as they left the Reptile House and headed back into the sunshine. Harry was considering whether he could get away with putting his arm around Ruth's shoulders when she suddenly stopped.

"The Penguin Beach," she said, pointing at a poster on an information board. "We have to go and see that."

"Penguins?"

"Yes. They're cute."

"They're animals, Ruth."

"They're birds, Harry."

"They're still part of the animal kingdom. And by describing them as 'cute', you're anthropomorphising them."

Ruth looked at him, levelly. "You have a dog."

"So?" he replied, perplexed by the sudden detour the conversation had taken.

"She sits on the sofa and watches TV with you. You talk to her and make a fuss of her."

"Because she's a sweet little creature…" He sighed. "Point taken. Let's go and see the penguins."

**-x-**

The two zookeepers feeding the penguins and giving a running commentary about the birds were funny, informed and obviously loved their work. And although he wouldn't admit it, Harry was quite enjoying himself. Up until the latest addition to the colony was pointed out.

"And that," said the female keeper, "is the new kid on the block. His name is Harry. He's a bit of a bossy chap and is always trying to make an impression with the girls."

The combination of the description of Harry-the-penguin and Harry-the-spy's expression made Ruth cry with laughter. "Oh God!" she spluttered, covering her mouth with one hand and clutching at human Harry's arm with the other. "Your face!"

"It's not funny."

"Yes it is."

"They've called a penguin 'Harry'."

"I think it's quite appropriate."

"Are you suggesting that I look like a Rockhopper Penguin, Ruth?"

"It's the sticky-out blond hair that does it," she replied, dabbing at her streaming eyes with a tissue. "And the walk."

"Charming."

His response set Ruth off laughing again and despite feeling a little insulted, Harry found her reaction quite heart-warming. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her smile so to witness her uninhibited amusement was a rare privilege.

"Do you know," he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders, "that it's worth being compared to a penguin to see you laugh like that."

Ruth continued to dry her eyes, using the action to hide her face. The thought that laughter was supposedly the best aphrodisiac had inconveniently lodged itself at the forefront of her mind. That and how nice it was to be cuddled by Harry.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked, hoping she'd suggest they go somewhere quiet, secluded.

"The shop."

"I should've guessed." He stood up and held his hand out. "Shopping it is."

**-x-**

The gift shop was busy, something that would normally have had Harry swiftly making for the exit but this time he used it to his advantage. Whilst Ruth was busy looking at the postcards, he went over to a display he'd spotted when they'd first walked in. After selecting what he wanted, he headed for the tills, swiftly overtaking two American tourists who had armfuls of souvenirs. Ignoring their comments of 'the Brits really aren't as polite as they'd have you think', he gave the sales assistant a dazzling smile and handed over his money.

Ruth was busy admiring an umbrella display when Harry caught up with her. "Hold these," she commanded, pressing several postcards into his hand.

"Just how many pictures of penguins do you want?" he asked.

"They're not all penguins. There's one of a giraffe, and a lion. A zebra, too."

"And nine penguin postcards."

"Well, I had to get some of Harry, didn't I?" she replied, pausing in her examination of one of the umbrellas to look at him.

"What are you going to do with them?"

"Oo, you've bought something," she said, ignoring his question and attempting to look in the plastic carrier he was holding. "What is it?"

Harry pulled the bag out of her reach. "No you don't."

"Tell me what it is."

"When you tell me what you're going to do with all those postcards."

"I haven't decided yet. Now, what did you buy?"

"Later."

"But Harry-"

"No."

**-x-**

Purchases made, they walked slowly back into the park.

"Are we going to the Big Salami…Whopping Sausage…thing…place?" Ruth asked, her mind not fully focussed on what she was saying.

"_The Honest Sausage_, Ruth. That's the name of the café."

"Yes, of course it is. That's what I meant, obviously."

"Obviously. And yes, that's where we're going."

"You're not really going to have sausage and mash are you?"

"Yes, I am," said Harry, "and I think you need to be desensitised," he continued, mischievously.

"I'm sorry?"

"This phobia of mashed potato. You should have desensitisation therapy."

"Oh really? So how would that work then? I sit in a room with a shrink and a plate of mash and chat about my feelings?"

"No. I was thinking you could come round to mine, we could boil a few spuds and then you could mash them yourself."

Ruth stayed silent, unsure as to whether Harry was, a) serious, and/or b) attempting to seduce her via somewhat desperate, and slightly perverse, means.

"Why don't you find us a table and I'll get the food," Harry offered as they walked up the pathway to the café entrance.

Ruth did as he suggested, finding a shady spot on the paved terrace. She was busy looking at the postcards she'd bought when Harry appeared with a laden tray and carefully set it down on the table.

"Don't worry," he said as he passed her a plate. "Your bacon roll is unsullied by my banger and unmentionable potato accompaniment."

"Glad to hear it," she quipped, refusing to rise to the bait. "And what's with the wooden cutlery?"

"It's environmentally friendly, Ruth. Don't you approve?

"Of the principle, yes, but they're a bit ineffectual."

"Only you would want to cut up a bacon roll. Use your fingers."

"There's rather a lot of ketchup in it."

"Can't have a bacon roll without ketchup."

"I might have preferred brown sauce."

"Oh. Sorry. You should have said."

He looked so ridiculously crestfallen that she immediately felt guilty. "Don't worry, it's fine."

"Sure?"

"Yes." She smiled at him. "I'm sure."

**-x-**

"So are you going to tell me what dirt you have on Chaz?" Ruth asked as Harry drank the last of his tea.

"What makes you think I've got any dirt on him?"

"For a start, you have dirt on _everybody_. And secondly, Chaz hasn't once complained about the number of liaison meetings you've been having with members of what is, ostensibly, his team."

"I see," Harry laughed. "Obviously, if I have dirt on Chaz, and I'm not saying I do, I couldn't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because, he is, _ostensibly_, your boss," he teased, enjoying the indignant expression on Ruth's face.

"Funny," she said, not looking in the least bit amused.

Harry shrugged. "He owes me a couple of favours. It's a long story. And anyway," he continued, "it's not just me who has dirt on people. I don't know whether to be more shocked by Dimitri's limitless knowledge of the habits and proclivities of my new colleagues or the habits and proclivities of said colleagues."

It was Ruth's turn to laugh. "I suspect we've only heard the half of it as well."

"Quite possibly," he replied, watching her fidget with the cardboard cup her tea had been in. "Do you want some more?"

"Yes please."

"And a cake?"

"Why not."

As Harry went back into the café, an idea occurred to Ruth. She reached down to the plastic carrier he'd left by his chair.

"No you don't."

She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to look at him.

"Cake first," he said, winking at her, "then you get your present."

**-x-**

He kept his promise and once she'd eaten her cake, he handed her the plastic bag.

Ruth looked inside. And then looked at Harry. "You bought me a toy penguin."

"It's Harry-the-penguin. You seemed quite taken with the real thing so I thought you might like a fluffy one."

When she didn't immediately reply, something clicked in Harry's mind and he got the distinct impression he'd put his foot in it. "You don't like it."

"No, no. I think it's…cute."

"But you're also thinking it's the kind of thing a teenage boy buys for his first girlfriend. I'm sorry, Ruth."

"Don't be. It's lovely. _He's_ lovely." She smiled at him. "And I think you'll find that these days most teenage boys are more likely to buy their girlfriends a download of Tinie Tempah's latest track."

Harry looked at her, blankly.

"Tinie Tempah. He's a singer. Quite popular, apparently."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Didn't you ever buy a record for a girlfriend?" Ruth asked. "The latest single by whatever band she was obsessed with at the time?"

Harry shook his head. "I had a slightly less subtle approach. A box of maltesers and a ticket to the local Odeon. If my luck was in, I got a snog on the back row."

"Snog many girls on the back row did you?"

"One or two. What about you? Boys, I mean. I bet they were lining up to take you out."

"Not really," Ruth said, using the excuse of putting the toy penguin back into its bag to avoid looking at Harry. "Going to a girls boarding school didn't help either."

"But surely you got under the wire occasionally? Went into town and met up with the local lads."

"Once or twice. But the local lads weren't interested in snogging me."

"Then they must have been bloody stupid."

Ruth looked up at him, taken aback by the unexpectedly serious tone of his voice.

"Let me know if you ever fancy making up for missed opportunities," he added.

"I might just take you up on that offer," she replied, without hesitation.

**-x-**

It started to rain, heavily, as they left the café. Pausing under a tree, Ruth unfurled the new umbrella she'd bought and held it up. "Harry, you're going to get soaked," she chided when he made no attempt to take advantage of the shelter on offer.

"Er, no it's fine," he replied, transfixed by the sight of the brolly. It was a dome type design in the style of those much favoured by the Queen Mother on her 'walkabouts'. Only instead of being clear plastic, this one had penguins printed on alternate panels. More precisely, images of Harry-the–penguin.

"Harry, is something wrong?" asked Ruth, moving closer to him.

"No, of course not," he said, keen not to upset her. "I just don't think we'll both fit under it."

"Yes we will, if we…huddle…together."

"Huddle?"

"Yes."

As he put his arm around Ruth's shoulders and pulled her close to him, Harry decided that a penguin umbrella wasn't such a bad idea after all.

* * *

><p><strong>More soon...<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Still not mine, sadly… **

**A/N: Apologies for the delay in updating but RL has been hectic of late. This is the last chapter (although I could be persuaded to write a short epilogue if anyone is interested) – some fluffy naughtiness to perhaps take your mind off the impending Series 10… **

* * *

><p>Ruth tucked her purse back into her bag and watched the lights of the taxi disappear into the distance. With the cab gone, and wearing new shoes she could barely walk in, she didn't have much choice but to go through with her plan. Either that or look very suspicious as she hung around waiting for another taxi. As she considered that idea, Frances' voice echoed around her head.<p>

"_Sex is the answer, Ruth. You need to seduce him. Dolly yourself up; flash a bit of thigh, show some cleavage and make it clear a leg-over is most definitely on the cards. He'll be putty in your hands. Well, hopefully not all of him will be putty but you know what I mean." _

So, with her friend's help, Ruth had 'dollied' herself up. The skirt was shorter than anything she usually wore and had been relegated to the pile for the local charity shop until Frances had salvaged it with a cry of '_perfect_!' The blouse was one she'd bought on impulse and then decided was far too low-cut for the Grid. It too had been destined for helping others until Ruth had decided it might just help _her_. Underneath the outfit were the new bra and knickers that had been languishing, unworn, in her underwear drawer for the best part of six months. The finishing touch was new shoes; not quite the obscenely expensive killer heels Frances had tried to persuade her to buy but not her usual style, or price range, either.

Ruth carefully made her way up the stone steps to the front door and rang the bell. Her stomach fluttered with nerves. This was quite a progression from their trip to the zoo, which had ended at the tube station with a chaste farewell kiss on the cheek and an agreement to go out again soon. Ruth wasn't entirely sure what Harry's reaction would be despite Frances' insistence that he would '_love it – all men want to be seduced_'.

Surprise was writ large across Harry's face when he opened the door and saw Ruth, and not just because he hadn't been expecting her. Having finally managed to get his brain to send coherent words to his mouth and invite her in, he watched, appreciatively, as she walked past him. She had lovely legs and he wondered why she usually kept them hidden away. Then she turned around and Harry was once again confronted with something else Ruth was normally reticent about displaying: cleavage.

Fully aware she was being eyed up, Ruth decided to return the favour and subject Harry to some uninhibited analysis. He was wearing jeans and a navy shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up. To further emphasis that he was very much off-duty, the shirt hung loosely over the faded denims and was buttoned in a way that suggested he wasn't expecting to be keeping it on for any great period of time. Which, thought Ruth, would prove to be a fortuitous bit of planning on his part, providing she didn't lose her nerve.

"You look lovely," Harry said, as Ruth's gaze finally returned to his face. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Going somewhere?"

"Yes, afterwards."

"Afterwards?"

"After you leave here. I'm assuming you called in en route somewhere else."

As he spoke, Harry was fervently hoping that his house was her intended destination and it was him she wanted to see.

"Oh no," replied Ruth, relieved she could once again do more than simply repeat Harry's words back to him. "I'm here. I mean this is where I am…where I was going…I'm not planning on going anywhere else. Afterwards."

She looked at him, willing him to understand the jumbled sentences that had fallen out of mouth without any intervention from her.

"In that case," said Harry, moving closer to her, "I'm beginning to feel a little underdressed."

"No, you're fine." Ruth took a deep breath, unaware of the effect it had on him. "I've decided to be proactive. I'm here to seduce you."

There was a moment of silence before he responded. "I think the whole point of seduction Ruth is that the seducer, or in your case, seductress, is not supposed to tell the seducee what the plan is."

"I thought it might be better to make my intentions clear."

"I see."

"There have been so many misunderstandings between us in the past that I decided a new approach was called for. And this is it. My new approach."

Harry slowly raised one eyebrow. "Now I'm beginning to feel _over_dressed."

Given the way he was looking at her, Ruth thought it was more likely _she_ was going to be putty in _his_ hands. "Then perhaps we should do something about that," she suggested, valiantly ignoring the temptation to abandon her plan and let Harry take over seducer responsibilities.

She began to sashay towards him in what she hoped was a suitably sexy and alluring fashion until, unused to the heels she was wearing, she stumbled.

Harry moved quickly, his hands ending up on her waist as hers came to rest on his shoulders.

"My mother called those 'taxi shoes'," he said, eyes twinkling with humour, "because you could only get about by taxi when wearing them."

"I should probably take them off," Ruth gabbled, convinced she was going to end up sprawled on the floor in an unattractive, unsexy heap. "You don't mind do you?"

"Not at all. And my hall floor will be eternally grateful to you."

"Right," Ruth replied, vaguely, as she attempted to kick off the shoes. Apparently though, that wasn't an option. _Stupid, bloody, strappy, waste-of-money pieces of-_

"Would you like a hand?" Harry offered.

She nodded at him and he crouched down in front of her and slowly slipped the shoes off her feet.

"Better?" he asked, as he straightened up.

"Yes, thanks."

Despite the difficulties Ruth had had in walking in the heels, they'd given her a certain degree of confidence but the last vestiges of it trickled away when she realised Harry now had a perfect view down her blouse. And he was clearly enjoying it if the lustful look on his face was anything to go by.

As she tried desperately to think of something, _anything_, to say, his voice broke the loaded silence.

"I think we should have a cup of tea."

"Tea?" Ruth repeated, unsure she'd heard correctly.

"Didn't you know? The most successful seductions always start with a cup of tea."

"Speaking from experience?"

"That would be telling," he said, turning from her and heading towards the kitchen.

Tea was the last thing Harry wanted but he felt in need of something to take his mind off the positively x-rated thoughts he was having about Ruth. He'd only just managed to resist the temptation to run his hands up the length of her legs after he'd removed her shoes, and then as he stood up again, he'd been presented with a beautiful, groin-tingling close-up of her cleavage. And although his un-tucked shirt was preventing his excited state from being too noticeable, he still thought it prudent to keep his back to her for a few moments. Even if she was serious about her intention to seduce him, she was clearly nervous and he didn't want to do anything that might frighten her away.

"You've had a haircut," Ruth remarked, as Harry got two mugs out of one of the cupboards and dropped a teabag into each of them.

"You compared me to a penguin."

"No I didn't!"

He looked over his shoulder at her. "You said the Rockhopper's 'sticky-up hair' was just like mine."

She pouted at him. "I was joking. Anyway, I much prefer your hair the length it is now; it makes you look more…it suits you."

"Thank you."

Ruth moved a little further into the kitchen and then stopped again. She really had no idea what she was supposed to do or say next and she was beginning to wish she'd been a bit braver and asked Frances for some tips.

Whilst she contemplated her next move, Harry turned around and casually leant back against the sink as he watched her.

"Come here," he demanded, albeit gently.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"_I'm_ supposed to be seducing _you_."

He laughed. "From the other side of my kitchen? You must be good then."

The challenge was irresistible and Ruth walked across the floor and stood in front of him.

Harry gently gripped her wrists, lifted her arms up and placed them around his neck. "That's better," he said, pulling her close.

It was devious but good; he was the one backed up against the sink with her pressed against him. She could move away, put some distance between them if she wanted to. But she didn't.

"Are you going to tell me the next stage in a successful seduction is a cuddle?" asked Ruth.

"No, it's an experiment."

"An experiment?"

"I'm curious to know how cuddling Harry-the-toy-penguin compares with cuddling me."

"You're assuming I've cuddled the toy penguin."

"You said he reminded you of me," Harry replied, sliding his arms more tightly around Ruth. "So of course you cuddled him."

"Very presumptuous."

"But I'm cute with it, don't you think?"

Heart pounding, Ruth whispered in Harry's ear, "Sexy, too. And much more fun to cuddle than a toy penguin."

A soft chuckle greeted her comment. "I thought so."

"Cheeky sod," she admonished, humorously.

Deciding to risk pushing his luck a bit further, Harry said, "We could have dinner afterwards, if you want. There's enough for two."

"What is it?" Ruth asked, struggling to focus on 'dinner' rather than 'afterwards'.

"It's Coq au Vin. It only went in about ten minutes ago."

"How long does it need?"

"A couple of hours."

"Really?"

"Didn't you know? The longer it takes, the more tender it is."

Ruth was almost certain they'd stopped talking about the food and, when Harry kissed her, she knew without any doubt that the subject had definitely changed.

**-x-**

Ruth quietly placed the two mugs of tea she'd made on the beside cabinet. Harry was still asleep, lying on his front, sprawled across the bed with the sheet barely covering him, so she took the opportunity to admire the expanse of smooth skin on display. He was in quite reasonable shape and had clearly been very fit in his younger days. Not that he was in bad condition now, as her still slightly shaky legs could attest to. Ruth felt her skin flush as she thought about what they'd done. It had been undeniably passionate and tender but also much more than just sex. She couldn't quite believe that it had taken them so long to get to this stage but it had definitely been worth it.

As she was looking at him, Harry shifted in his sleep, dislodging the bedclothes and, much to Ruth's delight, exposing his backside. It was far too tempting; she reached out and gently stroked his smooth, firm buttocks.

"You seem to have something of a penchant for fondling my bottom, Miss Evershed."

"Christ, Harry! I thought you were asleep."

"So you decided to take advantage of me? Naughty."

"You didn't seem to mind earlier," retorted Ruth, trying to hide her shock at having been caught out.

Harry rolled onto his back and it was clear he'd been enjoying her caresses. Despite having already seen him, and experienced him, in that state, Ruth blushed.

"You better come back to bed and make it up to me," he teased, amused by her reaction.

"Dinner's nearly ready," said Ruth, "and I've made you a cup of tea."

"Bed, Ruth. Now."

"But Harry-"

"Ruth, are you saying you'd rather have coq au vin than co-"

"Harry!"

"Good choice," he replied, moving quickly and pulling her onto the bed. "Very good choice."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading. :)<strong>


	4. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read, review, favourite etc. For those who asked, here is a short epilogue. Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>"That's you up to speed, Harry," said Chaz Devereux as he placed a slim manila folder on top of the pile on the desk in front of him.<p>

"Thanks. And for looking after this lot." Harry nodded towards the main part of the Grid. "I hope they haven't given you too hard a time."

"No, they've been great. Very professional, very diligent. Although I can't really pass judgement on Miss Evershed."

"Oh? There hasn't been a problem has there?"

"No," Chaz replied, grinning. "It's just that she's spent so much time being _liaised_ senseless by you that I've barely seen her."

"Funny," said Harry and then continued, "She's very good at her job."

"I'm sure she's very good at everything she does."

"Much like Adrienne, I'm sure. How is she, by the way?"

There was a momentary flicker of fear on Chaz's face at the mention of his PA's name but Harry saw it. Once again the Thames House gossip was spot on.

"As far as I know she's fine. Quite enjoying covering for the Deputy DG's girl."

"She's probably glad of the rest," remarked Harry, enjoying his colleague's discomfort.

"Now who's being funny?"

"Where to next?" asked Harry, deftly changing the subject.

"JIC for a month and then Six want to borrow me."

"Going over to the dark side, eh? Good luck with that."

"Now, now, Harry. We're all on the same side, remember?"

"Of course."

Chaz stood up and held out his hand. "Right, try to stay _out_ of trouble and _in_ the lovely Miss Evershed's good books."

"I intend to," said Harry as they shook hands. "On both counts."

**-x-**

Having seen Chaz Devereux off the premises and after conducting his first team meeting in several months, Harry returned to his office to start tackling the pile of files on his desk. He opened the first one and laughed as he saw the uppermost document – it was a postcard of Harry-the-penguin. Inscribed on the back of it, in unmistakeable handwriting, were the words: '_Welcome back. I've missed you. Rxx'._

Ruth was halfway through the weekly threat report when her phone rang.

"I need a word."

"Now?" she asked, looking across the Grid towards Harry. "And why are you ringing me?"

"Yes, now," he replied, "and I thought phoning would be more…discreet."

Shaking her head, Ruth ended the call and headed towards Harry's office.

"Unauthorised documents in files, Ruth," said Harry, holding up the postcard. "They could get you into trouble."

"Oh dear. What are you going to do?"

He stood up and moved towards Ruth. "What do you think I should do?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something appropriate. Or inappropriate."

"You have to admit, inappropriate is much more fun," he remarked before backing her up against the door and engaging her in a knee-trembling snog.

"So it's true what they say about men your age," Ruth teased as Harry's attention moved to her blouse buttons. "You're either insatiable or incapable."

"Oh, very amusing."

"I thought so. But," she continued, "as lovely as this is, we should stop otherwise we're both going to end up on secondment to some far-flung hellhole for the rest of our careers."

"Somebody has to catch us first."

"If you carry on doing that, they will."

Reluctantly, Harry started to refasten Ruth's blouse. "How did you know?" he asked.

"Know what?"

"How many weeks it would be before I came back to the Grid."

"What are you talking about?"

"You've given me one penguin postcard a week since we…well, since we got together, officially."

Ruth quirked an eyebrow at him. "So having sex makes it 'official', does it?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, luckily for you, I do. And it was an educated guess, Harry."

He laughed. "I'm not entirely sure I believe you."

Ruth straightened the collar of his shirt and smoothed his tie. "Well then, when we get home, I shall have to see if I can convince you."

"I'm looking forward to it," Harry replied, pulling her back into his arms. "But just to keep me going until then, I think you should kiss me again."

She didn't argue.

_The End_

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading. x<strong>


End file.
